Fighting Spirit
by Witty Teacup
Summary: The year is 1940, and the city of London is caught in the heat of World War Two. England is suffering at the loss of his brave citizens, and even with a warning from Germany himself, what drives him forward?


'_I swear to God this won't ever end…'_

What night was it? How many nights had this been going on? The explosions ravished the structures of his beautiful city, his home, his people. The smoke continuously rose, suffocating the city with its dark and grey puffs. He felt a pang of agony shoot through him like an electric shock, but instead of collapsing he forced himself to stay grounded, but could not hide the wince.

His emerald eyes fell to the window. Yes, he was one of the few people not in the bomb shelters, for it would not matter even if he were. He'd still feel the pain, he would still hear the cries, the sobs, the fear of those who did not deserve, those who did not choose to be involved in such madness, such war. He clenched his stomach as another wave of pain drowned him, and this time he fell to his knees.

"Damn it all…!" he cursed, clutching his midsection as a rapid, thumbing sting burned through him, his hands shaking. _That bloody German is still at it…_

The Brit slammed the wall his fist, despite how his misery had not wavered. He willed himself not to scream as a few tears welled up in his eyes from the throbbing of both body parts. He forced himself back to his feet again, leaning against the wall with a soft groan of discomfort.

How many nights indeed? Twelve…thirteen? He'd lost count. Or maybe he was trying not to remember how long this had gone on, or maybe he even didn't want to know how long this was going on. Either way, neither number nor date came to his mind.

But a better question would be, how much longer would this last? Would it be one more day, or one more month, or even worse…another year? No, they wouldn't last another month, let alone a year. It would be impossible, his people were suffering and he could feel every pant and cry, and death that occurred.

He put his hands over his eyes, letting the few tears that were defiant against him fall, the pain was all too much. Feeling, seeing, hearing, all of this was just too much. He couldn't bear this, how could he fight this war entirely on his own? France had already left him, those Germans were moving too fast, too powerful for his soldiers to hold them back. Did he even stand a chance any longer?

A knock, no, more like a demanding slam at the door shifted him back to reality, the reality he didn't want to face. His eyes found said door, and he waited patiently for a moment to see if whoever was there would gain entry without his authorization.

It didn't happen. They knocked again, more quietly this time, but still as swift. Who could even be daring to try and come to his home, right now? The bombing was still in session, how could they even have made it here? And more importantly, who knew he was still here?

Finally, another knock was heard, and then as if not wanting to wait any longer, opened the door. So he'd figured out it was unlocked, smart of them. It revealed his visitor, moments later.

His gaze narrowed at the man who'd been responsible for this chaos.

"_Germany…_" he hissed, clenching his free hand.

The blond haired German man took off his hat, and stepped over the threshold. For a long moment he said nothing, just looking passed him and out the window, before he turned to him.

"You, Britain, are a fool. Why do you refuse to just _surrender_? All of your people could be saved, all of these deaths could be avoided if you just surrendered," he stated firmly.

"Don't you think that I haven't thought of that?" England paused a bit, wincing as another shock went through him. "Don't you think I know what's happening to everyone, and how to stop it?"

Germany's gaze also narrowed. "Then why won't you?"

"We've made it this far…you can destroy our city, and our bases, but you can't destroy us. As long…as long as they're still fighting, I will too. I will _never _surrender to you," England snarled, standing up straight, despite how much it hurt.

He scoffed, and shook his head, as if disappointed with his answer. It was like he was disappointed in _him_ above all. Germany walked to the window; the city's flames glittering in his ice eyes. "Then I suppose we'll wipe you out then, won't we? This won't end until you give in, _Arthur_."

"Don't you _dare_ use my name as if we're _friends_. We were _never _friends, do you hear me? We weren't before and we most _certainly _aren't now. Get out of my sight, your mere presence makes me sick."

A hollow, menacing laughter rung out, and the Brit bit his tongue. His stomach, though already in great agony, churned with the chilling sound. He swallowed heavily, and spat out angrily, "What's so funny!"

"_I'm _sick? You amuse me, Britain. You're the one's who's sick, killing all of your people for as simple a reason as _fighting spirit. _All of them are dying and the blood is on _your _hands."

Arthur slammed the wall again, "That's not true! You couldn't be farther from it, in fact. You're bloody idiots, you Germans. You think our fighting spirit is what keeps us from surrendering? No, you're wrong. We fight because we can, because we are not only defiant, but we refuse to lose our city to the likes of you, and your people. Come what may, throw what you have at us, but you will never, _ever_, have our city without all of us being dead first. As long as there is still one person standing, _we will win_. You hear me, _Ludwig_? You won't win, you won't take London from me!"

It was then that Arthur felt the German's gaze on him. It felt cold, it sent his mind racing, _what had he just caused? _What had he just brought upon his beloved country, by his sharp tongue? He didn't know, nor did he want to find out.

"France has fallen, all of your allies are deserting you. You too, will follow. You are the first domino to fall in our success, Britain. It is only a matter of time. You can't keep standing forever; eventually you will have to give way," Ludwig said calmly, but there were daggers in his voice.

"We shall see…we shall see…" England replied back, forcing his voice to be more fierce and assured than he felt.

"Then I have done what I came to do. Mark my words, and heed my warning, surrender before you kill yourself," the German said, heading towards the door.

Slowly Arthur turned, his eyes following him out.

"And I've already told you, you want our city? Break our fighting spirit, first."

* * *

><p><strong>Okayyy. So I finally wrote a historically based story in canon!Verse. I can't even begin to tell you how nervous I am since this is my first time writing something of historical basis :I<strong>

**Anyways, overall I do rather like my result. I think it turned out A-Okay, so I'll leave it at that. Shout out to my dear friend MissNaekino for encouraging me to write this, and pep talking me quite a bit. Thanks so much girl :D**

******Read and review~?**

**-IchigoMelon**


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